


Flash Point

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 06:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: Sometimes Billy Rocks isn't invincble, it's a good thing he has Goody in those moments





	Flash Point

**Author's Note:**

> At the time I wrote this I was really craving some hurt/comfort with Billy being the one hurt and comforted, so I wrote this.

He wasn’t jealous, of course not. There was no reason for jealousy. Why would he be jealous of some woman who had been hanging on Goody’s shoulder all evening? He knew there was no reason for the emotion. The drunken lazy smiles Goody shot her way were just him being polite; charming; a nicety. He shouldn’t feel like walking over and sitting down in Goody’s lap to show he was already taken whenever the woman pawed at Goody’s chest, touched his arm, his shoulder. Billy wasn’t jealous.

Billy had always been very good at lying to himself, so why was it that the churning knot in his stomach, and burning in his chest wouldn’t listen and settle down?

Goody was playing cards, though as always when he did the actual game came second hand in favor of him telling the tallest tales to make his opponents laugh and not pay attention to how much they lost. Billy usually enjoyed sitting next to him and listen, but tonight when getting another drink he had stayed at the bar and just glanced over at the table were all the players were laughing at something Goody had said. They were the loudest table in the saloon, and the most inebriated. In a corner of the room another group of men sat around a table, miners Billy had guessed, and there were two other men by the bar besides the barman and Billy.

They hadn’t meant to stay in town, but they were far enough north that snow had started to fall during the night and continued into the day, and neither Billy nor Goody felt like riding in it, especially since they were too far away to reach another town before nightfall.

He glanced over at Goody again, and the woman who had her hand resting on Goody’s chest, over a spot Billy remembered kissing last night, when he’d had Goody spread out on the bed underneath him, had kissed and licked and sucked marks into Goody’s skin while riding him. He not only had to suppress a flush at the memory, but also the impulse to walk over there and drag Goody out of his chair and into his arms. 

Over by the table, Goody was saying something else, and getting up, turning to the woman and speaking to her directly, before he started walking towards the exit, nodding once when he saw Billy looking, just going to take a leak probably, Billy guessed. Meanwhile the woman at the table settled in with a laugh and grabbing Goody’s cards. Billy turned back to his own drink.

Perhaps he just felt frustrated because he couldn’t, because he wasn’t allowed to show the claim he had made on Goody, the claim Goody had made on him. He didn’t really think he really wanted to sit in Goody’s lap, pawing all over him – not in public at least. It wasn’t even that he would have liked to be able to kiss him public – hold his hand, brush hair away from his forehead and just touch Goody’s face whenever he could – he wasn’t that kind of person, not that open with his own feelings, but he had a feeling Goody would be. And there was a sting in his chest over the fact that he was missing out on something, he’d pretend not to like it, but he wished for it. Wished that Goody would be able to show his feelings for Billy, then there’d be no women hanging all over Goody.

He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts by someone pushing at him. His head snapped to the side and he spotted one of the miners standing next to him with a gruff look, face dirty and a scraggly beard. Billy hadn’t even noticed him, much less realized he’d been spoken to.

“What?” Billy snapped, probably with a little too much annoyance in his voice.

“I asked what the hell you think you’re doing in here?” The man said.

“What’s it look like?” Billy said. “I’m drinking.” The thing was, Billy knew how to not piss off white men, or at least knew not to talk back, the problem was Billy so rarely wanted to back down. Besides, this man at least a head taller than Billy didn’t look like he was likely to back down either way, Billy had long ago learned to tell when someone was looking for a fight for the sake of fighting.

He didn’t see the punch coming, too convinced a few more insults would be coming his way first, as such he couldn’t dodge entirely as a large meaty fist connected with his nose. His head snapped back, pain shooting through his nerves to his brain, but instincts kicked in and he managed a quick jab with his own fist to the man’s side, aiming for the kidneys and he did get the other one to gasp with pain.

“Take it outside,” the barman said, not even looking at them, but the voice carrying a hint of a threat and Billy had been in enough bars to know they all had rifles in arms reach, and the ones who weren’t accepting of brawls indoors wouldn’t hesitate to use them.

He was grabbed by the shirtfront, and the miner’s two friends stepped up behind him, before the first man started dragging him towards the door.

“Gonna teach ya not to talk back to your betters,” the man grumbled.

“Shouldn’t I be the one teaching you then?” Billy asked. He was well aware that he was the one escalating things now, but he didn’t care. Something had been burning inside his chest all evening and it needed a release.

The man actually growled at this and pushed Billy through the doors. With the doors swinging open, and the sudden gust of cold winter air, Billy shook himself out of the grip and boxed the man’s ears hard between his hands. The man groaned and shook his head. Billy shot him a quick grin, but then two sets of hands grabbed his arms wrenching them up behind his back.

Billy stomped down hard on a foot behind him, but while that got him a pained hiss the grip on his arms didn’t loosen.

“Fucker,” the first man muttered and punched Billy in the stomach. All the air was punched out of Billy, and he gasped, almost doubling over. Blood had started dripping from his nose, slicking his lips, and fat red droplets fell to the wooden floor.

He received another fist to the cheek this time, but he was able to roll with the punch, and it only glanced over his cheekbone, but a large ring the man wore scratched his cheek. Billy retaliated by kicking the man in the crotch. This made him shout in surprise and immediately both hands shot down to his crotch. Billy jumped up, pressing both his feet against the man’s shoulders pushed himself backwards.

Both men holding him let go of him, one a little bit later and as such stumbled a bit to the side. Billy landed on his ass with a thud in the thin layer of snow on the hard dirt.

“Gonna kill ya’!” the man Billy had kicked in the crotch shouted and took an unsteady step towards Billy. At the same time as Goody’s voice came floating through the dark cold air.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Goody rounded the corner of the saloon and came into view, the light from inside illuminating him as he strode towards them. He wasn’t carrying his rifle, but there was something intimidating about him which Billy so rarely saw, and he seemed taller intense fury shining on his face.

“Goodnight Robicheaux,” one of the man’s friends whispered in surprised awe and sudden fear.

Billy had heard the whispers, had heard _‘the angel of death’_ bandied about a few times, but he had never seen why they would call him that. He knew of course that Goody could be dangerous, could take care of himself if need be, but he had never looked at him and thought he looked dangerous. Instead it always seemed like they were talking about a different person, not the gentle and kind man Billy had gotten to know and love. Goody who spoke in a gentle voice with children and old ladies; the man who pampered his horse; and if there were dogs around when they ate would always sneak them scraps of food; and from the moment they met had always treated Billy with kindness and respect.

One of the men stepped right in front of Goody who slammed his fist into the man’s face, and followed it with a jab to the man’s side as he started to bend forward. The man who had picked the fight with Billy pushed his second friend in front of himself.

Goody had been an unexpected kindness in the harsh world Billy had learned to live in. He was kind to Billy, to people in general when they earned it, but even then he often got by on comments or thinly veiled threats, he so rarely had to actually use violence. It was as if the war had used up all of his rage and and fury and now he no longer wanted to be that man and made a conscious decision to not be. But here and now, Billy could see the man he had been; the man he could be when push came to shove.

Billy watched transfixed as Goody threw himself into the fight, punching and kicking. He should get up and help, but he found himself unmoving as Goody let loose on his attackers. And even if he had been able to move he wouldn’t have needed to as in the span of a few heartbeats, Goody had knocked all three to the ground.

“Get the hell away from here, and if I ever see you again,” Goody growled.

Billy, still sitting on the ground, which was cold and wet and uncomfortable, grabbed a handful of snow and pressed against his still bleeding nose. The snow cold and wet, but helped numbing his nose and he tipped his head slightly forward.

Billy’s attackers crawled a few feet, and then on unsteady legs got up on their feet, and started hurriedly moving away. All three with bloody noses, bruises on their faces, and the man who had picked the fight with Billy was limping, and cradling one arm close to his chest.

Billy looked up at Goody who stood there, breathing hard and watching the men move away. There was still something very intense about him, the way his eyes shone and jaw was tense. And when Billy looked at him he felt something like pride in his chest, and an excited fluttering in his stomach.

Once the men were out of sight Goody turned towards Billy, the anger melting away from his face in favour of an expression of concern which furrowed his brow and he stepped up to Billy and crouched down.

“How are you, cher?” Goody asked, one hand reaching out and cupping Billy’s cheek, and Billy couldn’t help it and leaned into the touch.

“Only got my nose,” Billy said, slurring a few syllables.

“And your cheek,” Goody pointed out, and with his other hand rested two fingers on Billy’s other cheek. “Can’t let you out of my sight for two minutes,” Goody said, but smiling. And Billy wanted to say _‘perhaps you should keep your eyes on me more’_ , but didn’t.

Goody pulled out the kerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to Billy who let go of the now red-pinkish snow and dropped it to the ground. He wiped his face with the cloth, as best he could, and touched his nose a bit. It was numb and hurt a little bit, but not too serious.

“He didn’t break it,” Billy said.

“Well, thank the lord for small mercies,” Goody said and smiled. “Come on, let’s get to bed. Wouldn’t want the cold to catch you.”

He let Goody help him up, and if Billy leaned a little more heavily on Goody than normal he figured that could be excused.

It wasn’t far to the boarding house and they made their way up a rickety staircase to the small room they thankfully had to themselves.

Goody helped him sit down on the bed, lit a candle on the bedside table and then busied himself with the basin and pitcher of water.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be cold,” Goody said.

“It’s fine, Goody, I’m fine,” Billy said, trying to sound reassuring. While Goody came back over to the bed carrying the now water-filled basin and a linen towel.

“Take your shirt off,” Goody said and knelt in between Billy’s legs.

“Goody.”

Goody looked down at his hands, dipping the towel in the water and then bringing it up to wipe at the cut on Billy’s cheek, eyes focused on his cheek and not meeting Billy’s gaze. He was so careful, so gentle. 

And Billy marveled over how lucky he was to have this man. To be able to call him his.

Billy hadn’t pined for him, _of course not_ , hadn’t spent ages before they finally came together desperately wanting him. Billy didn’t do pining. He wasn’t a protagonist in the romance books Goody sometimes read to him when he said there was nothing else available, and Billy pretended to believe him while also lying to himself about not enjoying them.

Billy reached up and grabbed Goody’s hand, stilling it, and waited until Goody met his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Billy said. He watched the way Goody swallowed hard.

“I saw you on the ground,” Goody said. “I just— I snapped.” He looked away. “If I had thought about it, and not just reacted. I know you could have taken them, I hope you don’t feel that me stepping in like that was in any way a slight to your talents, cher.”

Billy felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, and he thought about that fluttering in his stomach as he put both his hands on Goody’s cheeks, turning his head to meet his eyes again.

“Of course I don’t think that,” Billy said. No one had done that for him before. Of course he could take care of himself, and if someone else, anyone else had done what Goody did, he probably would have thought it was insulting but the fact that it was Goody. Goody who saw him hurt and immediately came to his aid, that was completely different. It filled him with this warm fuzzy feeling, he should maybe be embarrassed about, but he ignored that, because why shouldn’t he feel happy about the one good thing in his life.

He let his hands move to the back of Goody’s neck, and tugged at him, it took a moment but then Goody leaned forward, and they kissed, soft and gentle, Goody careful about not bumping into Billy’s nose. They had kissed a lot, but there was still this thrill going through Billy, how thankful and lucky he was to have Goody like this.

“I love you,” Billy murmured against Goody’s lips. “I don’t say that enough.”

“You say it plenty enough,” Goody said. “Though I don’t mind the reminder.” He gave Billy another soft peck on the lips. “I love you too, cher.”

Eventually after a few more soft kisses Billy let Goody continue washing him, his hands gentle but sure, and he leaned back and let Goody unbutton his shirt, and slide it off of Billy’s shoulders, pressing kisses to Billy’s collarbones. Goody moved on to remove Billy’s boots, and then pants. And after Goody divested himself of his clothes, and washed the blood off his knuckles, Billy crawled into the bed, kicking the blanket to the end of the bed, he curled up on his side and watched Goody. Drinking in the sight of a naked Goody that was all for his eyes only. That same possessive fire burning once more in his chest.

Goody turned back to him when he was naked, and he smiled at Billy who smiled back. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh and listened while Goody blew out the candle before climbing into the bed and laid down behind Billy. Goody pulled up the blanket over them, before settling in with his arm across Billy and pulling him tight against his chest. Billy sighed again, feeling so warm and content, he pressed back against Goody’s chest, and Goody’s arm tightened. He felt Goody press his forehead against Billy’s back, warm breath puffing against his skin. 

He didn’t know when he had stopped believing he would ever feel like this, would ever feel as loved, as cared for, but at some point he had, but then Goody had come into his life and turned all his expectations upside down. He had spent so much time being the strong silent one; and he still did in public, but here in private when there was only Goody, he could be open, could be himself, the person he had been repressing for so long, someone who laughed and enjoyed books. In this moment he could be vulnerable, because he knew Goody had him. He could let himself be held for once. The real world was filled with harsh brutal violence and injustice at every turn; but in here, in bed with Goody, everything was peaceful. 

They cared for each other, and maybe sometimes Billy needed to be taken care of, to feel protected, because he had spent so much of his life feeling like he had to do everything to take care of himself, and never feeling like someone cared for him; not until Goody.

Relaxing into Goody’s hold on him, he soon felt his breathing even out, and he started to drift off into sleep. Goody’s arm around him giving him a sense of safety covering him like a blanket.


End file.
